


Amateurly Falling for Purity

by Twisted_Felicity



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Childhood Friends, Depression, F/F, F/M, Family, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecurity, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29629551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Felicity/pseuds/Twisted_Felicity
Summary: Two boys that have grown up together, developed feelings to another. A long term-relationship was far off from how they expected to turn out...now they're ready to start a new chapter in their life after high school.But dear life won't make it that easy.Previous traumas come back to the surface. The discovery of disorders and insecurities...





	Amateurly Falling for Purity

Coldness is number two of the lists I feel deep hatred for. Number one are people that don’t accept you for who you are. Racists, Transphobes, Homophobes, Sexists, you name it.  
Do you know those guys that are a walking heater? Been jealous of them ever since I found out that there are humans who don’t have to wear fifty coats or hundred layers of clothing. Like, literally, I can walk outside with fifty coats, scarfs, hoods, ski pants, warm shoes and I’ll continue to freeze my butt off. That can’t be normal. Maybe I’m exaggerating…

I am…

Never mind. Best trait of mine, exaggerate…

Apart from that, the transition from Autumn to Winter is marvelously beautiful. The red and orange leaf’s falling on the ground. Dancing in the wind. Memories from when you were a kid and jumped into a pile of leaf’s pop up in my head. When you can hold your partner’s hand. To, kind of, transfer the warmth to the other. Even if there are people giving disgusted looks. Wonderful 2018 we live in. When you still can’t be yourself. When you still can’t express who you love without any judgment…

Hiding my face in my scarf is the one solution I think of when we go out. Whether it was because of embarrassment being myself or simply I’m cold. Behind the story of when I got my scarf, I know nobody asked but, I gotta tell a cute story of what we’ve done at that original date he gave it to me. It’s a mainly blue with light grey lines, separating the blue into rectangles. He got the scarf for my birthday. In May. Weird present at first. Wasn’t particularly expecting to get winter garement in spring. His reasoning made it up though. 

“You’re always complaining that you’re cold in fall. Thought it was perfect. I searched for a scarf for a long time but didn’t find one. Until I went shopping two days after Valentine’s day. I thought it's only appropriate to give it to you on your birthday than as a late gift for our anniversary.”  
We laughed when he said that.

On Valentine’s day is our anniversary to clarify first. It’s been a tradition for three years now to have a picnic near the lake Ace lives. Usually, we take polaroid pictures as well and hang them up on our wall at our homes. Lastly, we go to my place and do the cooking for my family or ourselves. Nothing specific is happening for the rest of the day. 

As gift I got him a perfume called Set Sail St. Barts. Personally, I think it fits his personality and his scent. Although I couldn’t find one that comes close to his nectarine smell. And then some self-made tie dye shirts for us two. A green one for me and an appealing blue for him. My paps helped me make them. His gifts were his wine-red hoodie with a white heart on the left side of the chest. I wear it so many times. So, he gave it to me. I insisted if he’d give it to me one day, he should wear it the day before to then smell like him. And it did. Ever since then when I washed the jumper, he wears it right after. He also gave me a body wash to make me smell like coconut. His favorite smell on me. We have been talking about scents the entire previous year and the presents fitted perfectly.

Thoughtful, gentle, caring, flattering, handsome, and I don’t know… too much I can’t list all of it. Just perfect. It’s weird saying it. I simply love being around him. I can be myself with him. He doesn’t mind my sometimes, in my opinion, weird traits. I need to work on it. Very soon.

One specific date makes me the happiest in this month. His birthday.  
I’m currently on the way to his house on this simple Friday afternoon. Just a senior student walking to his boyfriend’s house with the sun setting in front of me. He’s in the same grade but shares only five classes per week with me… sadly. I made myself the responsible one to bring his homework when he’s ill, which is a rarity. Unlike him, my Immune system always searches for the right moment to kick me in the butt! Got to love life, huh? Another reason is that none of his classmates know where he lives. And since everybody in this school ,of what feels like 8 billion students, but are actually 790, know that we’ve been “friends” forever, they run to me. 

Anyways, since it’s Friday I’m going to stay at his place till Monday. His parents aren’t home. Just a couple hanging out. Without their parent’s knowledge…  
His house isn’t that far away from school. In a normal tempo, about 10 minutes. Maybe less. I live half an hour away from him. I remember when we were younger, we used to cycle to the other one almost every day. But mostly we stayed at his house. Was closer. One time, I stayed at his house for over a week. My mom called and asked me if I’m ever coming back home again. I drove home and right on the next day, I was at his again. My family is aware of our relationship. His parents aren’t. There isn’t even a plan of telling them. Never will be a plan. And if when we’ve already moved out.

I turn the last corner made of bushes. Here I am. His house. A beautiful French country house. Two floors and a basement. The roof is a perfect place to chill. On summer days we sit there, trying to tan our skin. In the end mine gets sunburnt, his a light shade darker. I guess that's what happens when you talk while taking in the view of the woods surrounding the house and the small lake. At the lake are weeping willows. It’s frickin pretty.  
His room is at the at the second-floor front. Only thing you can see outside of the window is, street and bushes. No pretty view on the forest. When the sun rises, a layer of light pink starts spreading in the room. At first, then it turns to shining into your face. I took an insanely amount of pictures of him in the sun. His eyes. They look like glass almost.  
I look up to his room. His windows are wide open. And he’s sitting on the windowsill. His back leaned on the window frame. One leg bend up with his right arm supported by it. With a cigarette in his other hand...

…Let me remember… my boyfriend, who has a cold for five days now, is sitting with, at least a jacket on, on the windowsill. While it’s freezing cold. 30 degrees… maybe a bit more. I give up. This boy.  
“Aren't you sick?” I lift my head, hands on my hips.  
“You can say I was. But I was getting bored waiting for you.” Sure, I roll my eyes.  
“I don't buy it. You being healthy now after you coughed like a smoker yesterday on the phone. Apropos, smoker, you better put that thing out."  
“Can't I flirt with you anymore?” Nope. Not since I’ve seen you smoking with a cold.  
“Maybe you can, if you put your cigarette out, would wear something temperature adjusting, open the front door and give me a hug.”  
“Door is already open. Are you mad at me?”  
“I’m simply worried. It's just…. today was shitty. Sorry”  
“Oh. Don’t apologize. I’m coming down!”  
He’s putting out the cigarette and closes the window. His silhouette disappeares. I open the door and put my bag down. As I want to take my coat of, yes only one not fifty, Ace stands in front of me. The right side of his joggers is cuffed up to his calf. His shirt has wrinkles and his jacket… it’s showing both of his shoulders. Don’t get me started with his hair. It’s in the messiest bun I’ve ever seen! Jumps to the conclusion that he just woke up. Looks cute though. He holds a polaroid camera in his hands and smiles brightly. I roll my eyes. “Smile.” he says. And I do. A bright flash and the clicking noise from the camera. “Perfect.” He takes the pictures and shakes it gently. Now I finally take my coat and essentials off. He walks my direction to put the camera and picture on the windowsill and afterwards he hugs me tight. Maybe even a quick peck on the cheek…  
He has his hands around my waist, his chin on my shoulder. We rock side to side. I manage to check his temperature by putting my hand on his forehead. It's as always, nothing to worry about.  
He lifts his head, looks deeply into my eyes while his blue ones run a shudder down my spine. I lean my face up to his to for an Eskimo kiss.  
Suddenly Ace lifts me up. His hands under my thighs at first and then around my waist again. He grabs the polaroid and walks to the kitchen counter cautiously placing me there with my legs tangled around his torso. “You shouldn’t smoke when you have a cold. Your lungs will get more damaged. And don’t lift me when you’re sick…” I said, while trying to fix his hair.  
“I just lit the cigarette when you came, I didn’t take a pull, don’t worry. My mom checked if I’ve only got a cold or maybe a fever. If I would have a fever, I shouldn’t lift you up. I got lucky and only have a small cold. That probably already gone.”  
“Okay...”  
“You want something to drink? Or better what do you want to do?”  
“Lying in bed with you, with blankets and hot chocolate”  
“But what if you’ll catch it?” You think that’ll stop me? He starts touching each of my freckles or as he calls them ‘sunkisses’. It feels like he tries to connect them into something specific. Maybe the star constellations of our zodiac signs? The camera’s next to me now. The picture still developing.  
“I don’t care.”  
“Calling me out for the shit I do two seconds ago, and now you’re being the selfless one.”  
“If I’m going to catch it, it’s going to be my fault. But I don’t care. I’d be more worried if you’d have a fever. You only have a cold; I probably won’t even catch it.”  
"If you say so… I warned you, it’s not my fault if you’re gonna be sick for a week too. I’m going to make chocolates now...”  
He turns around with his long curly hair reaching down to his shoulders. Leaving his hair tie on my wrist. He didn't let me finish putting it back into a bun again. Well... it looks good like that too. When he heated up the oat milk, he walked to me again and gave me a kiss. As he wanted to walk away, I held his hand.  
“Let me fix your hair.”  
“You don't have to.”  
“But I want to.”  
When finishing his low ponytail, he turns to the side and coughs into his elbow. “Sorry.” I poke his nose and smile at him. Abruptly, he loudly sneezes. Luckily in his elbow again. “Bless you.”. He takes out a handkerchief to blow his nose. Shortly after washes his hands thoroughly. “I hate having colds.” I giggle. 

He puts the milk into our mugs. The cocoa powder in and stirring right after. He paces my direction with then his back turned to me. “Jump on.” he said. And so, I did. I quickly take the polaroid. 

He does this a lot even in school. I could be walking outside of my classroom, him standing already with his back to me. My direct intention is to jump on it. We then run around in the hallway to the cafeteria. Students rather smile at us because they simply think it’s cute or look at us weirdly. It’s a face you can’t fairly make out to what this person feels about it. It could be disgust, annoyance, I don’t know. Ace solves this problem easy; he ignores them. Simple as that. To be like this, is a goal of mine.

Back to Ace carrying me upstairs. When we walk into his room, he throws me onto his bed and let himself fall onto it as well. His hair looks messy again. I ask myself why I tied it up. 

“You shouldn’t do that. Even if it’s just a cold.”  
“I can do it. I’ll be fine…”  
“Right, you’ve got a good immune system. You’re such a lucky guy. If I’m sick, I’ll stay in bed for a week.”  
“See the good thing, I can give you a sick bed visit.” I’m going to lock my door and window at that point. Don’t you dare do that.  
“And you still know that I don’t want that.”  
“And you still know that I don’t care. And? Then I’m going to be sick too.”  
“But I don’t want that. I don’t want you to suffer as well.”  
“Do you believe I want you to suffer alone?”  
“Probably not."

A bit of silence between us. I reach my hand over to his curls, rolling it between my two fingers.

“Why can’t I be like you? Just not caring what people are going to say or think about us? I’m jealous.”  
“Don’t be. You’re good at your own things. It doesn’t have to be confidence. It could be your beauty, character or maybe something that you must still find out. Talking about beauty, is the polaroid done?”  
“Ah, looks like.” I hand it over to him.  
“Perfect.” He puts it on the shelf behind us. “I’ll get the drinks”

His room is nice. It’s quite big, but very minimalistic. He’s got a lot of books. On some weekends he goes to flea markets. Or just out of the house to get some air and “coincidentally” he’s at a market. Sometimes he takes me with, if I’m in the mood or he simply forces me and says, “You need Vitamin D”. He then buys a lot of books. At some point he needs a new shelf.  
Well, to continue talking about rooms, his little sister's room is right next to his. She’s a year younger than him. 16 years. At least right now. In December she’ll turn 17. Most of the times her room being next to his is a bit of a hell. Except that I really like her. She knows that we’re dating.

Footsteps on this wooden floor, let’s me know that Ace is getting closer. In his hands are the drinks and one thick blanket under his arm pit.  
“Isabella texted me. She said that she’s going to be home soon. Maybe in like an hour.”  
“What did she do?”  
“She had to go to her teacher because of the exams they had. Nothing important.” Which teacher? Mr. Anderson? Didn’t they have French?  
“…. We could do karaoke. We haven’t done that for a long time.”  
“You two are so similar sometimes…”  
“What do you mean?”  
“It’s just…, she suggested the same. What should we write on the polaroid?”  
“No idea.”  
Ace’ eyes open widely. He grabs a pen and writes. “How do you write ‘amateurly’ again?”  
“Don’t ask my dyslexic ass.” He giggles. “I guess you add ‘ly’ after amateur.”  
“Think so too.”  
With help of tape, it got added to the wall of polaroid’s we took. Almost the whole wall is full. But we find some space every time. For those interested, on the today taken polaroid the headline is ‘Amateurly Falling for Purity’.  
He puts the one blanket he brought up around me and his around both of us. The Chocolates are standing on the shelf that is behind the bed. Still warm. Yes, there are also books. In the shelf and on top of it. A Bluetooth speaker is there as well.  
“What do you wanna listen to?” he says as he takes his phone out of his pocket.  
“Troye Sivan!”  
He turns on Blue Neighborhood. A bit silent but still comfortable enough to listen to. This reminds me that we should get fairy lights. I think it fits perfectly to the aesthetic of his room. He hands me my chocolate since I haven’t touched it yet.  
In one go the whole cup was empty.  
Few minutes pass and I get sleepy. Which does sound weird. Doesn’t stop me though from snuggling to Ace’ side. I yawn, Ace just giggles.  
Ace drinks up as well and lies down next to me. His arms around my waist. He pulls me closer to his body. Those are the moments that I really love. Just the two of us lying there in the bed with music. It’s just the best. My eyes slowly close and bring me into the land of dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> This story accrued from an idea I had back in 2018. It was a spontenous, didn't have a good story line, it was the absolute worst thing I've written. So, what have I done until now? Correct, I edited the whole thing. From two handwritten pages to this.  
> It's far from perfect or finished but I'm happy that I have gotten so far.
> 
> I'm a high school student, so I have no idea if there will be regular updates or if I'll delete this story in the near future because of a rational perspective change of me being a writer...
> 
> Thanks though if somebody has read it. It means a lot.  
> Criticism and/or suggested improvements are more than welcome.


End file.
